


Happy Name Day

by cloudsinmycoffee9



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:36:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5989150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsinmycoffee9/pseuds/cloudsinmycoffee9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I started this fic AGES ago to have as a bday fic for my darling DKNC, but life got in the way, and so now I finish in the name of our frienderversary!!! Dar - thank you for being my you. I will never be the writer you are, but I hope this fills at least a tiny part of the Ned x Cat fic void. Happy late birthday and happy frienderversary!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Name Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DKNC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DKNC/gifts).



He lost himself in the sensations for a few moments, his eyes closed to simply enjoy the way she sounded and felt around him. But then he looked up at her head thrown back, the waves of her hair spilled over her shoulder and a deep flush colored her cheeks. She opened her eyes to look down at him just then and whispered his name, a smile on her lips. At the sight and the sound of her something deep in his chest clenched and twisted and he smiled to himself as his fingers continued rubbing against where they were joined. Her hips rolled faster against him.

He loved her like this. He’d come to discover that he loved her at all times - in all facets of their relationship, in all the ways she worked alongside him, in everything she did for the children and for their people. He could not imagine a single day of his life without her.

But this version of her, that was just for him, that had been earned, this was his favorite. The part of her inside her chambers, where they talked about the children, the people of Winterfell, the business of the day. The part of her that finally seemed so unselfconscious around him, that presented exactly who she was, that forgot to guard her tongue. He looked forward to her opinions of those they had dined with each night, her uncensored version of each event they hosted, and her anecdotes about the children.

More often than not, she would send away her maid so she could brush out her own hair. He secretly thought it was because she knew it pleased him and teased him to watch the parts of the Lady fall away as the woman and wife emerged. He thought she might know how much he enjoyed watching her fingers run through her hair, how much he enjoyed helping her unlace, untie, undress the many layers of clothing life in the North required. Normally, if she didn't send Anna away, he could be patient as her maid helped her, and she would keep up the conversation and try to catch his eyes in the looking glass as he paced aimlessly around the room, throwing his clothes over a convenient chair as he waited for her.

But they’d had no such preamble tonight.

She’d had just enough to drink at the meal, just enough toasts in her honor. There were so many toasts to her name day, the day the gods surely had blessed. There were toasts to her beauty, to her hospitality, and dances in her honor and speeches and cheers and she had gracefully acknowledged every word. He had watched with pride as his men had cheered her, celebrated the Lady of Winterfell she had so easily become. It was a testament to her character.

After the toasts were completed, her cheeks were rosy and her eyes shining bright. Her hand had been on his thigh under the table, her whispers turning to silly nothings in his ears as the hour grew later. When they’d finally managed their farewells as the crowd below carried on, her laugh had been loose and easy up the stairs. By then she’d been spun around the dance floor so often that her hair had stopped trying to stay in it’s braided form, and she’d stolen kisses from him in the alcoves along the way to their bedchamber.

Dress and shirt fell, boots kicked carelessly aside and all barriers removed until his fingers had worked her into a frenzy, until she’d begged him to push into her. And now they were joined, and she was moving over him, and he was smiling at the shine of their lovemaking over her skin.

 

It had taken nearly a year after they’d met at Winterfell before he’d even been sure she had come as undone as he always did with her. They’d had Robb, of course, so one could call their bedding successful. But the constant threat of any number of things kept the need for more heirs at the forefront of their minds, and he’d used that as an excuse to visit her chambers as often as he deemed proper without seeming overeager.

Their formal and stiff relationship had needed time to thaw into something like mutual affection. He knew that the distance between them was because of his actions, because of his ‘bastard,’ and he knew he deserved every cold stare or haughty word or closed door she would ever want to give them. She was a capable and beautiful lady; she deserved someone like his brother she’d been betrothed to. Brandon had had his faults, to be sure, but he had definitely had the training that Ned felt he so clearly lacked. Well before she’d even arrived at Winterfell, everyone knew she had dreamed and practiced the last six-something years of her life for the role of Brandon’s wife, of the Lady of the North.

But instead, by terrible twists of fate and the dealings of men, her lifeline had been tied to his. He who had never meant to be a Lord. Had never wanted to be a Lord. Had understood somewhere in part of his mind that he would probably be forced to marry and have children someday, and be responsible for some small holding somewhere and need to be present at a few councils here and there, but it had all seemed so unreal and so far away until . . .

But they’d done as well as they could. Better than expected, he thought, and he thought most would agree. It made him proud in a certain, secret way, how well they’d managed to get along and make things work. They’d made a son after only a fortnight together – did that not mean the gods found favor in their strange marriage? And beyond that, with Sansa and Arya . . . the homecoming she’d given him after the war seemed enough to validate the strength of their mutual affection. But it had grown deeper, much deeper, since then. Ned knew it had. And all that meant that every part of his day with her or with their children was now even sweeter.

He knew nearly all of the credit for their relationship lay with Catelyn herself. From the beginning, he could easily see that she was a woman who would never be still and silent and wait for happiness to come her way when she could so easily discern the path to contentment herself. She had reached out to him, reached beyond his grief, reached beyond the pains of war and even focused beyond the bastard son he’d brought home to Winterfell with him. She had done all this because she wanted and was willing to work for the best there was for her and her family.

They were a blessed family, were they not? A beautiful family, a blessed family.

 

His mind was drawn back to the present by a breathy laugh of pleasure from his wife.

She leaned down and took his face between her hands and kissed him furiously before leaning back onto her thighs spread around him, a wide smile stretched across her face as she shifted more firmly upon him and rolled her hips. He groaned softly, watching where they joined, and she moved faster, knowingly against him.

It had caught him off guard at first, the way she almost laughed sometimes as she found her finish with him. But he’d come to crave the joy and sounds and words he heard from her at the height of her pleasure – head thrown back, his name a breathy chant from her lips and the almost giggle at the end of it.

“I’m simply happy, my love. Everything feels so wonderful,” she’d whispered once when he’d asked her in a slight huff what was so humorous about what happened in her bed that would cause such a reaction.

“The way you – it is just that - when we touch, it makes me lose my breath sometimes, Ned, as I feel so satisfied and content with all in the world at that very moment, if that is a proper way to explain such feelings. I am not sure, but . . .” she’d continued. “Can you make me feel that way again, Ned?”

She’d dragged her heels down the back of his legs so enticingly as she’d explained herself. Her lips had found the pulse in his neck. And his doubt had disappeared and her question had been answered with passion that night.

She gasped now, and his name had three extra syllables as his hands held her tightly to him, his eyes on her face contorted in pleasure. He felt her contracting around him and pumped furiously into her so they might find their release close together.

They both sighed happily as she finally rolled off him, slowly, still panting heavily, curling into the furs. “You spoil me, husband.”

“Spoil you? It’s your name day but I feel like the one who received a present as I watched you just now,” he chuckled as he turned to throw an arm around her middle, reaching for the furs as he did so and covering her as best he could before she could feel the chill of the air against her skin.

“Mmm . . . thank you. I was just about to ask for them. But you know me,” she whispered into his neck, turning slightly to be more comfortable in his embrace as she snuggled under the covers.

“I would like to think I know my wife. My beautiful, intelligent wife.” His lips found her neck and she giggled.

“You forgot ‘old,’” she quipped.

“Certainly you can not feel old after what we’ve just done,” he answered, kissing her neck again. “Besides, I’ve seen more namedays than you, my love.”

“You know what I mean,” she sighed against him. “I am getting older, Ned. Every day.”

He pulled back from his worship of her neck to look at her. “As we all are, Catelyn. As makes sense.”

“You _know_ what I _mean_ , Ned,” she repeated.

“I do not.”

She sighed again, exasperation creeping into her tone this time. “I mean . . . I am getting older. Things are changing. I am changing. I’m growing older and I’m changing.”

“Many things improve as they age, my love.”

“Oh?”

He stopped speaking for a moment, but her faced showed clearly that she meant for him for continue. “Do you not think that . . . that you are . . . that we have . . . “ he suddenly grew uncomfortable and floundered to change the direction of the conversation. “I think Winterfell must have grown on you in this time. Surely your view of it has changed for the better.”

She stretched up to her elbow and leaned against it to eye him curiously. “Yes…?”

“Good.”

She looked at him for a long moment before releasing a breath. “Ned, of course Winterfell means a great deal to me. I’ve lived here nearly half my life now. My family is here. I’ve grown accustomed to what was once strange to me. I love to think your people have grown used to me, too.”

“They have, Catelyn. They love you.” His fingers pushed her hair back behind her ears, trailing down to her neck. “They love you as I do.” His added words made her face soften.

“You and the children and our home we have built here . . . “ her words trailed away as she stretched to run her fingers through his greying hair. “Our lives we have made together, Ned. It means everything to me. Thank the gods for you and our children. My gods and yours. Any gods that might be listening,” she added as she smiled at him.

He smiled back. But as he looked into her eyes, he knew that she was not settled - that he had not truly assuaged whatever concerns she had.

“What is it, Cat? Something still worries you.”

She bit her lip under his gaze and looked away. “Tis nothing, I was being foolish.”

“You are many things, but you are never foolish.”

She smiled wryly at him out of the corner of her eyes. “Oh, truly it is nothing, Ned. All the drink got to me, perhaps, and I suppose I was just feeling . . . it doesn’t matter. Really. All is well.” She turned her face to him and smiled. “I am with my husband in our bed and the night is still young. All is well.”

She lay back against the bed and he had to shift and turn to his side to look down at her now. She stretched her legs to accommodate his, snaking her arm under him to draw him closer. Their eyes met for a long moment, and he tried to read what was in her thoughts.

“Catelyn . . . “ he began slowly. She gazed back at him, a question in her eyes. “I - words don’t come as easily to me as I wish they would, as you probably wish they would.” She smirked at him and shifted in his arms as he put them around her. “But I want . . . “

He trailed off, and she reached to smooth her fingers gently across his brow. He drew strength from her touch, as always, and took a deep breath before speaking again. “I thank the gods for you. You are more than I could have ever asked for in a wife, in a lady to rule Winterfell, as a mother for my children. I have every confidence in you and you make this house so happy, so proud, and - “ he stopped again and looked away.

“And?” she prodded gently, gazing up at him.

He looked down at her, happy to note the pleased flush across her face. “You are so intelligent, clever, so beautiful . . . the very best mother and wife . . . Catelyn - in you, I have been blessed beyond anything I could have imagined. Truly. Happy name day, my love. May the gods help me deserve you.”

She didn’t make a sound, but he saw the outline of his name on her lips as she looked up at him, eyes shining.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, there was only each other, only the pleasant weight of their own world that they had created in that space together. Ned hoped that Catelyn could feel how he felt about her, how he treasured her, how he thanked his gods for her. He hoped she might feel all the words he might not ever be able to say out loud to her, but felt with every part of him, knew in every corner of his being, as they looked at one another.

He grabbed a small piece of her hair in his hand by her shoulder and tugged lightly. The motion moved her head to the side and as she leaned and opened her mouth against his wrist at her shoulder, he leaned to kiss her neck, feeling the drag of her fingers on his back and hearing the hitch of her breath as he did so.

“I love you, Ned.” It was a breath and a promise and his heart skipped at her admission, as it always did.

“I love you, Cat. Happy name day, my love.” His arms came around her fully and he shifted to be completely above her. He looked down at her hair spilled over their bed, her blue eyes that stared up with such trust and love at him. Her pink lips, parted. “Catelyn, my love.”

As she looked back at him, her smile at his words split his heart wide open and he nearly had to close his eyes. He moved against her with her purpose and she lifted her hips to meet him, her eyes open, heart open, happier than she had ever known.


End file.
